Looking Out For Slim
by Yankee01754
Summary: How did Slim get to the hotel from Doc Collyer's in The Violent Ones? I've tried to answer in what seems to be a logical manner. Many thanks to Polly for giving this the once over and catching my errors. Especially on the spelling of the Blaynes' last name. It's not spelled the way I had it figured.


Looking Out For Slim

by Yankee 01754

The last few days had been stressful and tiring. Sheriff Mort Cory had a powder keg on his hands just waiting for the match to set it off. Bill Blayne had killed a friend of Jess Harper's a few days ago. He'd goaded the young man until he'd finally challenged young Blayne to a fight in the street. It ended with Jess unconscious on the floor of the saloon, Millie begging somebody to stop it and Jess' friend dead in the street.

Now Bill was trying to get Jess to go up against him. The hot headed Texan was struggling with his temper. A friend was dead. Blayne was breathing down his neck, insulting him and goading him to the point where Jess was bound to blow up any time now. In just a moment Sheriff Cory would see for himself the one thing that was guaranteed to make Jess blow up.

Mort leaned over, hand cupped next to his face, to blow out the lamp. As he did he heard stumbling footsteps outside his office. Then the door rattled open and Slim Sherman stumbled in practically falling on his face as he did.

"Slm! Who did this to you?" Mort was appalled at the condition of his young friend. Face bruised and bleeding, clothes dusty and dirty. The younger man was barely able to stand, let alone walk.

"I don't know, but I can make a good guess - Bill Blayne," Slim answered painfully as Mort tried to ascertain his actual injuries.

Mort seethed when he heard that. He'd like to wring the Blayne kid's neck! Lock him up - permanently. The problem was that they had no solid proof and the gunfight, that had started this, had been self defense. The sheriff had been frustrated in his attempts to find a reason to lock the young man up.

Slim winced and jumped as the sheriff checked his ribs. "Easy Mort. I think a couple of my ribs are busted.

The two men talked as the older one tried to ascertain how badly his friend was hurt. After deciding upon a course of action regarding Slim's assailants and his partner - keeping Jess from finding out about Slim being hurt - the sheriff said, "I have to get you to Doc Collyer's first. Can you make it?"

Slim smiled painfully, somewhat weakly, "If I don't move again."

"Come on boy," Mort said as he helped Slim up.

The two made their way to the door with Slim leaning heavily on his shorter friend's shoulder and Mort's arm wrapped around his waist. It wasn't easy. Mort didn't bother blowing out the lamp as they left. His priority was to get the tall blond rancher to the doctor's and get him checked out.

It took them ten minutes, with Slim grabbing hold of hitch rails and posts as they went, to get to the doctor's office. Blessedly the lights were still lit and the door unlocked. The medical man took one look at Slim and hustled him and Mort into his examination room where they laid him out on a table.

Mort pitched in by getting warm water to clean Slim's face. Underneath the dirt, and blood, his face was chalky white. Dr. Collyer cleaned the cut on the patient's right temple and applied a small sticky plaster to protect it for the time being. Then, while the sheriff supported the patient he unbuttoned the top of his long johns and wrapped his ribs.

"I want you to take a little laudanum tonight," the doctor told Slim. Those ribs are going to be painful for a few days - even a couple of weeks."

"Sure. I know about broken ribs," Slim said all the while planning on ditching the laudanum as soon as the doctor's back was turned. He hated the stuff. Hated the way it made him feel all fuzzy headed and confused.

"I hope you're not planning on riding home tonight," Collyer said. "You could puncture a lung."

"He's going to stay at the hotel," Mort told doctor and patient. "I'm going to take him over and get him a room."

"Good idea," the doctor said, "and you can make sure he takes the laudunum."

"Don't worry," the sheriff said. "He'll take it if I have to hold his nose closed and pour it down his throat."

The two left the doctor's office and walk slowly toward the hotel carefully avoiding going anywhere near the saloon where they figured Bill Blayne and company were hanging out. Once inside the lobby Mort dealt with the desk clerk and got Slim registered. Slowly the pair made their way up the stairs to the assigned room. Once inside Mort sat Slim on the bed and knelt down to remove his boots. Then he helped the younger man shed his shirt and pants and made him comfortable as soon as he took the painkiller.

Mort pulled the covers up and turned down the lamp. Slim fussed at him to get going - he wanted to make sure Mort caught up with Jess at home and gave him the phony message about the trip to Cheyenne. They had no way of knowing that a message was already being delivered to the relay station - a message that would expose Slim's as being a cover for his being hurt.

The sheriff left his young friend sleeping, quietly leaving the room and the hotel. He got his horse from the livery stable and started on the twelve mile trip. It was already too late. Jess had gotten the message when Slim's gun belt was thrown through the front door window and was on his way into town ready to settle with young Mr. Blayne and his friends. They missed each other entirely.

A few days later Mort, Jess and Bob Blayne shot it out with Bill's so-called friends. It was a relief to the lawman to know that Bob Blayne really did realize that what had happened to him, years earlier, had been his own fault - not Jess'. Blayne vowed to penetrate his younger son's thick skull - if he had to beat it into him - that Bill's death was his own fault. That what had happened to them - father and sons - had been brought on by an unwillingness to accept the truth. That if Blayne, Senior, had been honest from the beginning and stomped, so to speak, on his sons sooner, all this tragedy could have been prevented. The younger boy, Larry,. was lucky he'd gotten off with just a broken arm when he'd tried to avenge his brother's death.

Slim recovered enough to go home a few days later only to be pressed into service by Daisy. He had to put up with Jess teasing him about how domestic he was only to have the last laugh when Jess was caught hanging clothes by a greatly disappointed Mike and a friend. Mort got a lot of enjoyment out of that! His mind conjured up images that he would have a hard time getting rid of. Slim snapping beans or shelling peas was one thing but Jess Harper hanging laundry? That was a sight he'd love to see. Maybe an unexpected visit when Daisy was busy...

Things were back to normal at the Sherman Ranch and Relay Station. Life was good.


End file.
